Carrot Cake
by The Rebellious Observer
Summary: Percy touched his mouth disbelievingly with one hand; felt stunned for a few seconds before a wide, wonderful smile slid out over his face, and he laughed. (Slash)


Carrot Cake

Percy Weasley's path was blocked—by a bunny (a portly little fellow all in white, with a pink, twitching nose and beady eyes that darted suspiciously everywhere around him in a way that somehow seemed faintly familiar).

"Shoo," he said, irritated, but was ignored.

Why wasn't it leaving?

"_Shoo,_" he insisted, giving it a tiny nudge with the tip of his immaculately polished shoe, at which the bunny looked quite affronted.

Sighing, Percy side-stepped the creature and continued on his way, package of quills and parchment-paper tucked securely under his arm.

He'd only gone a few steps when he realized that the animal was hoping along beside him.

He stopped; so did the bunny. He started forward again, and the bunny followed.

This kept up for a few minutes before Percy finally got fed up with the entire situation; he halted and turned to the little white creature just behind him, looking down at it imperiously.

"I must insist that you cease this behavior immediately. I will not indulge you in this frivolousness," said Percy stiffly; the bunny looked at him in disdain and rebelliously took another hop forward.

Percy spun on his heel and began walking again—faster this time—quickly outdistancing the little animal; leaving it lagging behind on the path.

He was almost at the end of the street when he grudgingly threw one last look over his shoulder, to see what the animal had done.

The bunny was huddled forlornly outside a shop a short distance down—ridiculous long ears drooping and his squishy white face forlorn.

Percy paused.

Could he _really_ walk away, just like that? It was getting cold, and a bunny was really was such a _defenseless_ animal; no telling _what_ could happen to it.

And it really wouldn't be much of a burden to take it in, just for a night or two, before he could release it safely somewhere, and—well, _hell_.

He turned around and walked back toward the animal, scooping it up into his arms securely.

"Fine, then; you win. I'll take you home with me—but just for a while, mind," he said, and the bunny twitched its button nose in what might have been the furry equivalent of a self-satisfied smirk.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"I suppose I'll have to call you something during your stay, then," said Percy pensively, once they'd reached his flat.

The bunny wandered off and poked around the room, disinterested.

"I think I'll name you...Natalia. Yes, that's it—I've always liked that name," said Percy, and the bunny abandoned its exploration to turn and pointedly stamp its foot against the floor.

"Oh, you like that, then?" asked Percy, pleased.

The bunny stamped its foot harder, quick-quick-quick thumps.

"I wonder why you're acting so peculiar—is this your species' way of communicating its desire for sustenance?" wondered Percy, heading to his small kitchen for a saucer of water and a few hearty vegetables for the newly-christened bundle of fluffy white fuzz.

Natalia stopped the futile thumping, irritably tipping over a vase on her way to the couch.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

One day became two days, became a week, and then two, and then Percy had to admit he'd obtained a new pet.

Natalia had seemed rather grumpy with the whole situation, at first, but she'd been making progress—she hardly ever even broke things on purpose, anymore.

It was a warm Saturday evening, when it happened; Percy had been sitting on the couch, doing a bit of casual reading (_How to Become the Minister of Magic in Eleven Easy Years_), Natalia dozing on his lap, when she'd nipped at his finger demandingly—wanting him to scratch her behind the ears, in that spot she could never reach. She'd glared at him until he did her bidding; relaxed under his hand once he'd acquiesced, and he'd laughed.

"You know, I just now recalled who it is you remind me of," said Percy fondly, fingertips gently scratching at the soft fur behind her head.

"There was this boy I went to school with, years ago—an insolent little chit, if I recall. Draco Malfoy, that was his name—"; and the next thing Percy knew there was a flash, and a naked Draco Malfoy sitting snugly in his lap; Percy squeaked loudly and pitched over sideways, spilling them both off the sofa onto the floor.

"_N-Natalia?_" yelped Percy disbelievingly.

"Draco Malfoy, if you please," drawled Draco, snatching at a decorative pillow and holding it awkwardly over his privates.

"And I'm not insolent, you classless cretin—or a girl!" he added as an afterthought.

"What—but—you're _missing_, all the papers say so, what are you—wait, where's my bunny?" asked Percy.

"I'm the bunny," said Draco.

"You're the bunny?"

"I said I was the bunny, damn it!"

"You. Were my _pet_?"

"I was under an evil spell!" protested Draco.

"An evil bunny spell," clarified Percy.

"Yes, Weasley, an evil bunny spell. You broke it when you said my given name—and don't you _dare_ laugh, damn it!" hissed Draco, flushed and flustered and sorely vexed at the whole bungled state of affairs.

"I would _never_ laugh at such gross misuse of magic!" said Percy, shocked and scandalized.

Draco looked at him strangely.

"Oh. Well, then," he said lamely, fiddling with the embroidery on the throw pillow with one hand and clearing his throat.

"I'll require some clothes now, if you please," said Draco, and Percy blushed a curiously vivid shade of vermillion all the way up to his hairline.

"Yes, yes, er—yes, of course," he said quickly, avoiding looking at the pillow—indeed, avoiding looking anywhere near Draco at all—and rushing to his room for some clothes.

"Here you go," he said once he'd returned from his room, hastily proffering the clothes and an extra pair of shoes in Draco's general direction (still carefully averting his eyes, embarrassed). He politely turned around as the other boy changed.

"I'll be going, then," said Draco, once he'd donned the borrowed clothes and footwear; Percy turned to face him again, reaching for a small bowl of Floo Powder and holding it out to the blonde as Draco stepped toward the fireplace.

Draco's hands dipped in for a pinch of the fine powder; gracefully flung the stuff into the hearth.

"Thanks for everything," said Draco, and the words sounded uneasy—unpracticed—in his mouth.

"It was nothing," said Percy, blushing again (his skin showed _everything_. And, judging by Draco's painfully pink cheeks, the Slytherin had much the same problem).

Then Draco was leaning in and his mouth was warm and melting-sweet on Percy's, and he tasted, he tasted like—

Draco stepped into the flames and said the name of his ancestral manor, and was gone, just like that.

Percy touched his mouth disbelievingly with one hand; felt stunned for a few seconds before a wide, wonderful smile slid out over his face, and he laughed.

Draco Malfoy tasted like carrot cake.


End file.
